LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2439, 30 January 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

MB LANGLEY’S AUNT. It is nearly always disagreeable for a rich man to live near his poor relations. When the option of residence is in the rich man’s hand ho usually selects a neighborhood where life is not made bitter by the sight of uus-icoessfal shabby brothers, _ broken-down widowed sisters, or impecunious nephews and nieces ; but what can a man do when he is settled on his own property, and some of these social pests come and pitch their tent within a mile of him? This sort of thing had happened when Raymond Langley was appointed curate of tho parish where his uncle owned tho chief property, and was a very pompous little squire It would not have mattered so much, in the uncle’s opinion, if tbe enrate had come by himself; but he had a young orphan sister with him. This was disagreeable, rot only to Mr Langley, the squire, but to his daughter Vera, a young lady of Aesthetic tastes and hard worldly wisdom. .Nora L angley’s bright fresh face brought no pleasure to the soul of her cousin, and as Christmas was approaching tho shadows of discontent deepened, 'lt is intensely annoying, papa, their being here!’ exclaimed the aggrieved daughter, sitting side-ways by the break-fast-table, in a costume peculiar to the recent craze, and her brown eyes looking angrily from beneath a huge fuzz of auburn hair. ‘ Nora takes up with all the odd peosle 'she meets, and seems to have no notion of what Is due to us. I met her yesterday walking with the most wretchedlooking old person, quite a vulgar woman I should say, who is lodging in the village. I really believe the old creature thought I was going to be introduced. ’ ‘Humph! clergymen can’t bo choosers always os to their acquaintances, especially a curate with a hundred pounds a year. But I have a letter here from my aunt JephsoD, saying she purposes to be with ns on Chrutmss Day.’ * Keally ?’ cried Vera, rising in her excitement j ‘the idea of fixing so suddenly on a visit, after shutting herself up for forty years I* • I daresay age is giving her warning that it doesn’t do to put off final arrangements too long and Mr Langley rubbed his hands silently beneath the table-cloth, as he glanced from the kidney on his plate to the crabbedly written letter beside it. 'She must be going to make her will, and we are her nearest kin.’

‘Yes,’ said Vera, with a soft sigh of satisfaction, Then a painful thought seemed to strike her.

• I’apa, what about Baymond and Nora ? wouldn’t it be bettor—quieter lor your aunt, I mean—if we had no one but herself here on Christmas Day V ‘Ha, ha, ba 1’ chuckled Mr Langley; ‘ clever girl, deuced clever ! But haven’t we invited the brother and sister V

‘ Yo-cs,’ responded Vera, knitting her brows in thought (although you could not see that she did it, because of the hair); ‘ but Nora is coining to tea with me to-day, and I think I can manage,’ Apparently her fa'hor thought so too ; for he merely shrugged his shoulders, and opened the "Times.”

Vera Langley, at five o’clock tea, was quite a picture. Her drawing-room was papered, dadoed, and curtained with dim browns and greens. Ebony shelves, as large as for a kitohon dresser, were filled with plates. Tho mantelpiece was china laden, and decorated up to the ceiling. A matchless tea service rested on a Chippendale table ; and gracefully reclining, In a dress of dull gold shaded with olive, was the young lady herself. Who can hope to describe an festbetic expression of countenance ? Du Maurier has given us the young lady whose face was fixed to represent o “ longing after the infinite,” and whose fate was to hear some gentleman bewailing the frequency with which ho had to eat pork when travelling somewhere. There was this fixed look of melancholy and longing on Vera’s face as sho greeted her cousin, and she smiled gently and sadly upon the simple merino and fur trimmed jacket, which adorned one of the prettiest and most unaffected girls in England. Only a few natural silky curls fell on the broad, open forebead, and the bright, fun-loving, blue eyes had their full advantage, because they were allowed to look straight out from beneath well-shaped eyebrows. How she did it there is not time to tell; but Vara Langley contrived to rouse the ire of her cousin, and to make her resolve that it should never be said of Raymond or herself that they had sought to obtain a chance of realising Mrs Jepheoa’s fortune ; and the end of the dainty tea hour found Nora taking leave with a heightened color, and saying that she sad her brother would not diae with their uncle on Christmas day. ‘ We shall be quite comfortable at home, Raymond,’ urged his pretty sister earnestly; ‘ you don’t mind, do yon ?’ * Not a bit,’ replied the curate; ‘ but I had not reserved any of my quarterly fortune for a Christmas dinner, so don’t order luxuries. ’

‘ N'>, no!’ cried Nora; ‘I can make a splendid pudding with what is in the house —and— ’

‘ No meat ?’ inquired Raymond ruefully.

‘ Yes. a little, dear ! but would you very much mind if there wasn't a sirloin of beef, or a turkey ?’

* A lark's leg will do, little housekeeper. But I must get to work; my Christmas sermon has to be preached, beef or no beef !’ When Nora heard the door of her brother’s little study closed, she began to puzzlo over the plum-pudding question, and had a hunt for her cookery book. Failing to find it, she suddenly remembered she had lent it to an old lady who was living in a tiny cottage near. * I’ll just run over for it !’ exclaimed Nora ; and she took a thick cloak from the hall, and tying a white knitted shawl over her head she put on goloshes, and stepped quickly out into the frosty air. In live minutes she was sitting by a bright firo opposite a very old lady, who seemed much pleased to have such a sunny presence In her barely furnished room.

‘ 'Too bad of rao to forget your book, my dear,’ said Mrs Bennett gently; ‘ but you are not going to c:ok to-night, eh ?’ ‘ No, not to-night, Mrs Bennett,' said Nora, with a smile and a look of importance; ‘ but I must make our Christmas pudding to morrow.’

1 Indeed 1 I thought you told me you were to dine at tho Great Honse ?’

‘ We wore—but we are not going now ’; and Nora coloured.

‘ Well, well, my dear,’ said the old lady quietly, ‘ you and your brother will have each other,’ and then she sighed ; and Nora looked round the bare room, and thought how dull Christmas would be for her old friend.

A b-ight thought 1 but was it possible ? Certainly not, if the joint consisted of a lark’s leg- And while .Nora was pondering, the old lady was watching her changing face. At last the young girl spoke. ‘ I was thinking if you did not mind a very plain dinner, whether you would come to Raymond and me on Christmas Cay, Mrs Bennott ?’

‘ You are kind, dear child, Your company would cheer me ; if you would not feel mo a trouble ?’

‘Ono !’ eagerly cried Nora; ‘ but don’t scold if the dinner is badly cooked, for I have to do it all. We had given our servant leave to go home for Christmas Day before—we knew—about not going— ’ The worda came awkwardly out; ‘ and now we must let her go. ’ ‘ Of course,' said the old lady briskly ; ‘ and you’ll just let my old Ann come over and help you in the morning, and then you can go comfortably to church. Good-night, my dear; don’t catch cold running home.' When Norah told Kaymond next morning about the invitation she had given, he looked oomioa’iy disirayed, but said nothing; and when he came home from his long day’s work he was relieved to find his sister standing, smiling and important, beside a large hamper, lovingly pursing a fine turkey In her arms, and looking tenderly down upon a handsome York ham. * Just come, and addressed to me I ’ she c-iod breathlessly, holding the turkey towards him; but ho merely looked his admiration, and did not take hold of the welltrussod bird.

* I say. Norah, waa it addressed to Miss Lsmjley ?’ ‘Yes.’

‘ Then, of course. It’s for Vera, and has come here by mistake, ’

‘Oh!’ groaned Nora, getting quite pale, as vhe slowly laid down the turkey and looked for the label. When this was found she shouted for joy. * “ Miss Nora .Langley ” as largo as hfo ! Why do you give people such horrid starts, Raymond ?’ ‘ All right. I’m as pleased as you are ; and Mrs Bennett will gtt a good dinner, after all.’

That old lady came over on Christmas eve to advise Nora in her housekeeping arrangements, and was busily engaged In actively helping to m’x tho pudding, wi‘-h her sleeves tucked up, and a largo holland apron pinned over her plain black gown, when Yera Langley drove up in her pony carriage. ' How tiresome I’ said Nora, as she espied her visitor. What can she bavo come for ?’

‘ Perhaps to try to make you go to them to morrow. Please do not lot yonr invi. tation to me prevent a pleasant visit,’ begged old Mrs Bennett; ‘ beoauae, you know, I must leave you at six o’clock ’ Here Vera entered, slowly and gracefully. She favored the pudding materials with a glance of amused contempt, having never seen a pudding before it was cooked daring the twenty-one years of her rather useless life. She then acknowledged X' ora’s introduction of Mrs Bennett very slightly and haughtily, and tnrned at onoe to the object of her visit.

' Papa thinks it very foolish of you and Raymond not to come to dinner to-morrow, Kora ; and ho has sent me to say he hopes yon will alter yonr minds.’ ! Nora’s blue eyes opened wide. ' I thought when 1 saw you last you felt It would be more satisfactory to ourselves not to seek the opportunity yonr Christmas dinner would give of meeting the unknown wealthy annt ?' she remarked queationally. ‘How you jump at conclusions, Nora!’ exclaimed Vera, with an awkward laugh ; * I think yon made all that cut for yourself. Papa will be quite vexed if Raymond does not come.’ This was new and wonderful. ‘I am sorry,’ said Nora slowly, ‘but we have a friend coming— ’ ‘Now, my dear,’ said Mis Bennett, giving a vigorous stir to the pudding, * remember I must leave at six o’clock; won’t that give you time to go?’ ‘ Quite,’ said Vera decidedly; and, addressing her consin, ‘You know we don’t dine till half-past seven.’ ‘I know, but I had hoped, dear Mrs Bennett, to coax yon to spend the evening with us. It will be so dull and lonely the long evening in that cottage, far away from your own people.’ The kind face of the old lady quivered a little, as she said in reply, ‘1 shall not be lonely, child. And I have no people to miss, or who will miss mo,’

Nora could not decide, but ventured to whisper a request to Vera to invite the solitary old lady as well as her brother and self.

‘ Impossible 1 Really, Nora, you are shockingly careless in your social arrange ments,’ audibly whispered Vera, in reply, 'Social humbug!’ murmured Nora, reddening. And -just then Raymond came in, and Vera turned with obvious relief to prefer her father’s request. ‘ But you know, Raymond,’ interposed his little turkey cook of a sister, ‘the wealthy Mrs Jepheon la coming, and wo are very poor, and very likely she will think we want her money.’ Raymond looked amused and uncomfortable together, for he knew Nora was now repeating the words her cousin had used to her a day or two before; but he did not wish to make a quarrel with any one at Christmas time, so be said firmly : ‘As our fiiend Mrs Bennett positively intends leaving us at six, I see no obstacle to accepting my uncle’s invitation.’

• Then wo must eat two Christmas dinners 1’ said Nora, still wrathful. 1 When do you expect your visitor, Verat’ asked Raymond politely. ‘ Aunt Jephson ? O, I suppose early tomorrow ; but she never said anything except that she would be with us on Christmas day ; and we don’t know where she Is coming from, for she dated one letter from Paris and the next from North Wales.’

‘What a wonderfully active old woman she must be I’ remarked Nora sotto vnee to Mrs Bennett; and she was delighted to hear her respond with a hearty chuckle. Vera looked still more annoyed at Mrs Bennett after this, and addressing Raymond, said in a distinct low voice, ‘You seem obliged to know all kinds of people. By the way, I must be going now ; and I forgot to say that in her last letter annt Jephson said she hoped to moot yon and Nora at our house.’

She sailed away to her carriage ; and when Raymond returned from seeing her off, Nora exclaimed,

* O Raymond! why did you give In ? Don’t you see they have oniy repeated the invitation beoause they’re afraid of offending the rich aunt? aud she has told them she wants to see na.'

‘ Nora, this is Christmas Eve, I shall want yon in the ohuroh soon ; so finish your labors here quickly, and put ‘ malice and all nncharitableness ’ out of your heart, or the day will be spoilt.' .Nora was a great pet of her brother’s and took liberties no one else would have done; but now she was subdued at once.

* Forgive me, Ray ; I will try not to think of Vera again to-day, and I shall ba ready to help in the church in half an hour.’

Christmas Day dawned bright and frosty, and the little village church rang out a merry peal very early to rouse the old and young to a remembrance of the day; and all who attended morning service felt the better for Raymond Langley’s good honest sermon. * Ann and you aud I have turned out a first-rate dinner, my d> ar!’ said old Mrs Bennett, as she plied knife and fork, and out on her liveliest manners for Nora’s benefit; and Raymond so well appreciated ths good cheer, he said the thought of dining again was a severe trial to him.

‘ But maybe it will be for your good to meet this new relative, and it is wall not to be too proud,’ said the old lady, nodding wisely. ‘ We are not going to be proud,’said Nora, rather disappointedly; * but I should have been better pleased to know we three were to have our cosy evening at home.’ When six o’clock came Mrs Bennett went away, and Nora arrayed herself for the evening.

‘Very nice,’ pronounced her brother, as she came in to show herself before enveloping her light dress In heavy wraps. ‘ Simplicity is the highest art, after all.’ ‘She’s h’artless, but not ’eartless, sir,’ said old Ann, who had run over to have a peep at her favorite. Arrived at the Great House, Raymond and Nora were welcomed by their ancle and cousin—and saw no one else.

‘We fear my aunt Jephson has been unable to travel,’ said Mr Langley. ‘ She has not arrived, ’

‘O, perhaps,’ said Nora rather mlschievioualy, ‘if she has been rushing from Palis to North Wales, she may have knocked herself up.’ ‘ Yes, yea ; extraordinary for a person near eighty, wasn’t it ?' At this moment Vera’s classic hand wns raised for silence. Wheels were heard, then a thundering tap at the door. ‘ She’s come, after all I’ said the delighted daughter of the house, and she accompanied her father into the hall.

Raymond and Nora stood near the blfizing fire, and were surprised that, instead of words of welcome, dead silence reigned.

4 I’ve not had to travel from Dan to Beersheba, you see 1’ said a strangely familiar voice.

Nora looked fairly frightened. ‘We are expecting a relative, madam, ’ said Vera’s cold prond voice, ‘ and had not looked for the honor of your visit.’ ‘By Jove! very awkward I Do you know this lady, Vera ?’ said the squire. ‘ No, she doesn’t know me yet, nephew ; bat she soon will ’ And the visitor passed by the silent and, It must be admitted, openmouthed host and hostess, and entered the drawing-room, throwing off her old cloak as she walked.

Could it be ? Yes, it was Mrs Bennett, and yet it waa not Mrs Bennett. Instead of a shabby gown she wore a handsome black velvet relieved by point lace, and—yea ! real diamonds met the astonished eyes of the curate and his sister.

The word ‘ nephew * had sent a psng to Vera's heart, and she followed her father in, looking limp and helpless, just In time to see Nora clasped in her grand-annt’s arms, and to hear her gasp out, ‘ How—could—you—help—to—cook—a—a dinner 1’

The servants all guessed how It was. The old lady had determined to know her relatives aud be unknown herself, so had hired a cheap cottage and lived amongst them. She had seen Raymond’s poverty, and sent the hamper to Nora; and had sent her letters to Mr Langley to be posted by friends at different places: As she was personally unknown to them all her ruse had succeeded. The Christmas dinner was not quite jolly enough, aud every one was glad when it ended.

Mrs Jophson went back to the curate’s cottage afterwards, and there made such substantial arrangements to insure Raymond’s preferment and Nora's fortune that it would have been strange if these two young people had not fully meant it when they said to each other—- • This is a merry Christmas.’ Very soon after the sh*bby little cottage was shut up, and Mrs .fophsnn, with her faithful Ann, went away to a fine property in Lancashire j and very soon after that Nora was sent for to bo tho darling of her old age, and Raymond was enabled to carry out a cherished but hithert > hopeless wish, and to marry In the springtime of his life.